


Taking Up the Challenge

by CaptainLyssa



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Romance, Break Up, Delta Flyer, Episode: Critical Care, Episode: Drive, Episode: s07e04 Repression, F/M, Mention of Klingon Sex- off camera, Platonic Romance, Unhealthy Relationships, humour at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23062060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLyssa/pseuds/CaptainLyssa
Summary: I was given a challenge by Voyfan2 over at FFnet and this is the result.Tom and B’Elanna through Drive, Repression, Critical Care and the end of their relationship. Leading the way for my favourite couple to become, well, a couple. It could, sort of, lead into Voyfan2 stories, Fallout and Make it Look Good.Let me know what you think. Oh, and take a look at Voyfan2 work. Short reads but worth it!
Relationships: B'Elanna Torres & Neelix, Kathryn Janeway & Tom Paris, Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Taking Up the Challenge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Voyfan2](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Voyfan2).



**Drive**

Lt. Thomas Paris slunk into Engineering after a very enlightening conversation with the EMH. Searching for his girlfriend of several years, Tom spied B’Elanna at a side station, tinkering with the warp core and most probably killing time. She had that dreamy look on her face, one that rarely appeared. Tom Paris knew he was in big trouble.

“Hi,” he attempted to make his voice sound soft and contrite. It came out with a touch of bitterness. _Dam, I really want to fly that race, it’s a pilot’s wet dream_ , Tom cussed internally.

“You're early,” the Chief Engineer’s smile widened, if at all possible. B’Elanna hadn’t picked up on Tom’s agitation as she dragged him to a quiet corner for a secretive, swift kiss. She did feel his less than enthusiastic embrace, and knew their romantic getaway was in trouble. “Please tell me your packed?”

“Not yet,” Tom confessed, unable to look Torres in the eye. He’d blown it, Paris could tell from the startling change in body language. Arms crossing over her chest, head tilted to one side, slight frown changing her appearance, B’Elanna was most definitely not happy. “Actually, there might be a little problem.” He got **_the_** glare. At times like this, Tom discovered it was better to just get the truth out, let Torres explode and then pick up the pieces. “I have the chance to pilot the Flyer in a really unique race. The Captain thinks it's a great idea, and I guess I got so excited I forgot about our plans. But I don't have to do it. I’m sure the Captain could find another pilot.”

_Great, passive aggressive, that’ll set B’El off. Why_ , Tom asked silently, _do I always sound like I’m begging. I know B’El wanted this weekend, and I’m the one who’s at fault, but this opportunity is once in a lifetime. If I don’t take part, or worse, someone else gets to pilot the Flyer, I’ll always be a little resentful. I’m Voyager’s Chief Helmsman and this is important to me, personally and professionally. B’El should understand that._

Surprisingly, the Engineer sighed. She’d watched the emotions crossing her lover’s face and concluded forcing Tom into something he didn’t want to do would only end in disaster. Swallowing her hurt, B’Elanna responded with a tight, “it's all right.”

“Really?” Tom’s baby blues showed his astonishment at the easy capitulation. _Maybe B’El knows me better than I thought._

“The holodeck will always be here,” Torres explained, waving her hand and stepping away from Tom, towards the nearest terminal. Fingers racing over the surface, B’Elanna started to compose a group message to everyone she’d approached, begging for their leisure time. She wouldn’t allow him to see the pain and anger building, nor the acrimonious words explaining the reason she’d cancelled their vacation. In fact, the engineer was proud of the evenness of her tone.

“I do not deserve you,” Tom couldn’t help the glee colouring his words.

“You're right about that,” B’Elanna stated, gritting her teeth. The man could have such a one tracked mind at times. _Like now_ , Torres mind supplied, _or any time there’s something that consumes his attention. Captain Proton, Seth’s ship, the 69 Chevy and Alice, to name a few. He gets a new hobby and I get dumped. Next, he’ll promise to plan our vacation for another time, then guarantee he’ll make it up to me. I’ve heard it one to many times, Tom. Can’t you see that by the lack of expression on my face that I no longer believe you?_

* * *

“If you're thinking of cheering me up,” Torres stated resentfully, “don't bother. Oh, and by the way, you can have your holodeck time back if you didn’t get the message already.”

Shocked, Neelix asked why the weekend B’Elanna has so carefully planned needed to be cancelled. The flat response wasn’t like half Klingon. Becoming worried, the Talaxian empathised, “I'm sure if you tell Tom how important this romantic getaway was to you, how much trouble it took to arrange, he'll reconsider.”

“That’s part of the problem, Neelix,” Torres found the startling revelation enlightening, “Tom and I should both be able to do what makes us happy. Doing anything together, has to be planned, timetabled, talked about, decided on. There’s nothing we do as a couple that’s spontaneous, because we can’t agree on anything. Our interests are just so different. This race, it’s important, not just to Tom as a person, but professionally, as a pilot, and to the moral of Voyager. Everyone’s excited about it, except me. I’m afraid its time I faced facts, Neelix. Tom and I don't belong together.”

“Then you're not in love with him anymore?” Neelix asked, attempting to understand. The pained expression on Torres face stated she didn’t quite know the answer to that question herself. “B'Elanna, if you still love each other…”

“I’m not sure I do,” the words shocked the half Klingon. “Maybe what we have isn't enough, or it’s not the right type of love. You know, there's a Klingon phrase my grandmother used to use. Mok'tah. It means bad match. That's what Tom and I are. I just hate that it's taken me three years to realise it.”

“If you're really such a mok'tah,” Neelix attempted a little humour in the hopes of finding an argument to make the engineer’s thoughts more optimistic, “it must have been an awful three years.”

“I won’t lie, Neelix. There have been events that are almost impossible to forgive, for both of us. I’m not sure we really did,” B’Elanna had to be honest with herself. “Tom’s a great guy, most of the time. We've had a lot of fun together. We’ve also had a lot of fights and forgotten dates. Either I get so focused on the engines, or Tom involved in his interest of the moment, we hurt each other unintentionally, before kissing and making up. I can’t believe I didn’t realise it before. I’m not sure that’s enough for either of us.”

“Why aren't you saying all this to Tom?” Neelix sympathised, his tone soft but insistent.

“I plan to,” B’Elanna sighed, suddenly tired and needing time alone to think. “After the race.”

“By which time, he'll have disappointed you again,” Neelix patted Torres on the knee. “I may not know as much about Klingon tradition as your grandmother, but somehow, keeping Tom in the dark doesn't seem very honourable.”

With that piece of advice, the moral officer stood and returned to work. B’Elanna’s eyes watched the Talaxian as she continued to sit and stare out at the stars. Telling Tom her thoughts before the race would ruin it for him.

 _Then_ , B’Elanna’s mind supplied, _he’ll be disappointed in you. There can’t be a winner in this situation._

* * *

Everything went well for the Delta Flyer and her crew on the first segment of the Antarian Trans-Stellar Rally. Tom and Harry vied for first place, along with Irina and Assan in their own ships. As the three leading vessels exited the Mobius Inversion, the Flyer pulled ahead, only to have the race officials call a temporary halt as they crossed the finish line. All competitors were recalled to Voyager. Captain Janeway called her crew into a debriefing as soon as the Delta Flyer landed. Officials were waiting to take their report on the incident. As Tom and Harry hadn’t seen anything, there were released almost immediately. Of course, Neelix used the opportunity to throw an impromptu party and keep everyone’s spirits up.

“How’s Joxom?” Harry asked the moment he found Irina in the crush.

“He’ll survive,” Irina sounded angry, sending reproachful glares toward Assan. “I’m just not sure I’ll be allowed to finish the race without a co-pilot, that is, if I can repair my ship in time.”

“I checked the rules,” Harry lent in and whispered, “and found I can substitute.”

“That will leave Tom and the Flyer out of the race,” Irina considered the offer, before shaking her head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that, Harry.”

“You don’t have too,” Harry cut the woman off, holding up a hand to stop any further interruptions. “We have a ship full of pilots and engineers, anyone could be Tom’s co-pilot. The Captain’s talking with the race officials now to assess the options and get you back in the race. We’ll know the results in a few minutes. Until then, tell me what happened? No one’s told us anything.”

“Hey,” Tom approached and protested, glancing between the cosy looking pair, “I hope you’re not going to tell this story without me. We were so far in front,” he teased, “the first we heard about the accident was on the com.”

Glancing at the Imhotep’s entrant angrily, Irina declared, “it’s Assan's fault. He collided with me so many times my shield generator overloaded and Joxom's console exploded.”

“We grazed your shields while in the anomaly,” Harry glanced at Paris, a worried expression covering his expressive face.

Captain Janeway entered the room looking for Paris and Kim. Accompanied by one of the dignitaries, they were about to announce the good news. However, catching Harry’s last words, she manoeuvred O’Zaal closer to the group of pilots. “Intentionally?” came the sharp question.

“No, Ma’am,” Paris responded automatically, his posture at attention. “It was a tight course. Everyone was flying very aggressively.”

“I see,” Kathryn eyed her Conn Officer, assessing his expression. “I would like Voyager to win, but not at the cost of another ship, Lt. Paris.”

“Understood, Ma’am,” Tom responded.

Nodding, Kathryn relaxed a little. “I’ve come to tell you, B’Elanna volunteered to replace Ensign Kim as your co-pilot. I can’t see a better choice than our Chief Engineer to lead the Delta Flyer to victory. Can you?”

“No, Ma’am. But I’m kind of surprised B’Elanna volunteered” Tom stated, obviously astonished. “She hates this kind of thing and I ruined out romantic weekend on the holodeck.”

“Maybe an attraction to the pilot had something to do with Lt. Torres decision,” the Captain smirked.

“Who,” Irina asked in a confused tone, “is B’Elanna?”

Harry regaled his new team mate with tales about Tom relationship with the Chief Engineer. Ensign Kim couldn’t help humiliate Lt. Paris, at least a little, detailing how he’d forgotten about their vacation. Irina found the story both humorous and upsetting.

“B’Elanna must be furious with you,” Irina attempted to hide her smirk.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Tom frowned, pointing to the door.

B’Elanna’s gaze captured Tom’s for a split second, before she returned her attention to Tuvok. Together they approached, handing a PADD over to the Captain. It didn’t take long to establish the damage to Irian’s ship had been deliberate sabotage.

“You have until tomorrow morning,” Kathryn warned Harry and Irina, “to make repairs. The race will recommence then. Lt. Paris, you’ll need to bring Lt. Torres up to speed on the course. Good luck people.”

Tom pulled Torres out into the hall before asking, “are you sure you want to do this, B’El?” Paris was more than a little anxious taking on a new co-pilot, let alone Torres after delivering such a huge disappointment less than twenty-four hours ago.

“I was working with Seven, when she said something,” B’Elanna answered, her brown eyes scrutinising blue, “about embracing some of your interests and supporting your personal goals so the pair of you functioned more efficiently as a team. I thought we might give it a go.”

Grinning, Tom decided they’d weathered this storm. He’d really have to make it up to B’Elanna. She’d always hated public demonstrations of affection, so she wouldn’t allow the kiss he wanted to give her. Right now, they had work to do. The Flyer required checking over and Paris had to bring his new co-pilot up to speed with the second and third segments of the course. Both would be run tomorrow. It would be a harrowing day.

* * *

“Repeat after me,” Tom was furious. They’d lost the lead. Both Irina and Assan were ahead of the Flyer at the end of the second segment. _And it’s all B’El’s fault. I know she hates to lose, but this kind of race is about timing and skill. She’s a dam fine engineer, but doesn’t get the subtleties of flying competitively._ “I am not the pilot. I will not attempt to fly this ship.”

“That one doesn't even rhyme,” Torres complained, trying to keep her temper under control.

Thankfully, Harry interrupted, looking for a hyper spanner. Yet another system in Irina’s ship had broken down, this time without harming either crewmember. It seemed Ensign Kim was having the time of his life, getting to know the Terrellian. Tom and B’Elanna put aside their issue as they teased him, while aiding Irina to make the hasty repair. All conversation ceased as the Flyer negotiated the difficult first section of the last segment. There wasn’t much to do in this middle sector. Conserving fuel for the sprint to the finish line, Tom and B’Elanna found they had time to continuing talking about Harry and his new lady love.

“I meant that some people fit together without having to work at it,” Torres remarked. “And other people, no matter how much they try…”

Tom finally got it. “Are we talking about them or us?” he demanded. Engaging the autopilot, Paris turned around in his seat to face B’Elanna. He didn’t like the expression one her face. It seemed he hadn’t been forgiven so easily for screwing up her romantic plans.

“What?” Caught, Torres found she couldn’t find the words.

“If something's bothering you,” Tom stood, attempting to keep his racing heart under control and tone light, “let's talk about it.”

Sighing, B’Elanna allowed half her attention to monitor her station, while the other half went for broke. “I thought if we could do this one thing together, something you cared about, that it might help our relationship,” she confessed.

Shocked, Paris knew he’d initially felt resentful, even though he’d hurt B’Elanna by once again not thinking. Last night they’d managed to get back some kind of normal, while they studied the course. This morning wasn’t about their relationship, it was about the race and trust. Once again Torres though she knew better and ignored his carefully calculated plan without warning. Sure, they’d had their personal differences, but usually they managed to sort them out. A little lost, Paris attempted to see where this conversation was going.

“I didn't know it needed help,” Tom spoke carefully, watching B’Elanna’s reaction.

“That's part of the problem,” she responded. Not with the anger Tom expected, but resignation, as if she’d thought long and hard about them and already come up with an answer.

“I know we scrape shields occasionally,” Paris admitted, wondering if this was about their well-documented arguments, “but it keeps things interesting.”

“Maybe interesting isn't enough for me,” B’Elanna’s chocolate eyes became glazed.

Recognising they had a real problem, that they’d never get the time or space on Voyager to sort it out, Tom turned back to his consol. With a flick of his fingers, the Delta Flyer was dead in the water. Analysing the last few days, Paris finally comprehended what B’Elanna was attempting to say. This went further than a few missed dates, the arguments and differences in personality and culture. They didn’t communicate effectively, nor did they really trust the other with their intimate thoughts. B’Elanna’s depression over the death of her Maquis friends proved that.

“What are you doing?” Torres questioned when the warp core stopped humming through the floor plates. Suspecting she understood, noticing the fear in Tom’s baby blues, B’Elanna stated coldly, “I never asked you to give up this race, or anything else that you care about. I never asked you to stop being yourself.”

“Well,” Tom exploded, “you could have fooled me. All, I’ve ever wanted is to be is the guy you're in love with. But,” scrutinising her expression, Paris had his answer, “I’m not sure you feel the same way about me.”

“You always seem to have other priorities,” Torres finally confessed, looking down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. “I tired of coming second, Tom, to Captain Proton, the holodeck, any new space craft or, even Harry at times.”

“I’m trying to show my priorities now,” Tom rolled his eyes when she wouldn’t look at him. “Look, I’ll take the blame for a lot of our issues, B’Elanna. I’m thoughtless and insensitive, my communication skills leave a lot to be desired and I don’t trust easily. You know what gets me the most, every time I try something romantic, it fails because you don’t trust me either. The closest I’ve seen you to starry-eyed is when you read one of your Klingon love stories. I can’t compete with Rork in Women Warriors and the River of Blood. I know neither of us had the best role models for parents, and maybe that’s part of the issue. Neither of us knows what a good relationship looks like, let alone a marriage or family.”

“Marriage?” B’Elanna questioned.

“Morse code,” Tom muttered, irritated by the constant beeping from the operations console. It interrupted his train of thought. As much as Paris wanted to continue this discussion, he knew who was sending that message. Translating it in his head, he rushed to the pilot’s seat, “Fuel converter rigged. Eject. What does he mean by rigged?”

“Who?” demanded B’Elanna, running a system’s check.

“Harry.” Tom grinned.

It didn’t take long to realise they had to eject the warp core before breached. Racing towards a nebula, the ionised gas contained the explosion. It would take Voyager a couple of hours to collect the Flyer. Tom intended to put the time to good use. Contacting the Captain with the promise of a full report when they finally came aboard, Lt. Paris indicated they should move to the rear compartment and get comfortable.

“We need to talk,” he eyed B’Elanna. “Really, talk. Our future as a couple depends on it.”

Nodding, Torres started by telling Tom about her conversation with Neelix.

* * *

**Repression**

“Captain,” Harry felt uncomfortable.

“Tell me what occurred,” Janeway felt for her operations officer.

“B’Elanna,” swallowing hard, Kim shook his head, as if he could shake the memories loose. “It was like that prison with the chute all over again. She had some of her friends separate Tom from the rest of us. She just laid into him, for no reason and he didn’t fight back. When I tried to stop her, she hit me but at least she finally left Tom alone.”

Kathryn Janeway had seen the after effect of the beating Lt. Torres delivered to Lt. Paris. It had taken the doctor hours to treat Tom. What the Captain couldn’t understand was why. She knew about the aborted vacation on the holodeck in favour of the rally. Meeting the pair as they exited the Flyer, neither were happy and it had nothing to do with losing the contest or warp core. In the month it took to transverse the territories held by the various peaceful species encountered at the race, they’d taken a step back from their romance and appeared to be friends once again.

“Do you think it has anything to do with the end of their intimate relationship?” the Captain asked, not liking the consequences of that thought.

“I believe the split,” Harry stumbled, not wanting to betray confidences, “was amicable. Tom’s been saving rations for near on two years so he could afford wedding rings when he popped the question. I’m not sure what happened on the Delta Flyer, neither one of them has said anything to me or anyone else. I haven’t even heard a rumour, even though everyone’s asking for details. I know Tom’s given up on the idea of marrying B’Elanna, so the split is permanent.” Shrugging, Harry confessed, “I guess that’s what started all this, Tom spending most of his rations to create movie night on the holodeck.”

Nodding, Kathryn had more than the romantic life of her Chief Helmsman and Engineer to consider in the wake of the nearly successful mutiny. The rest of the staff weren’t fairing any better after the Maquis attempted takeover. Chakotay and Tuvok, along with a quarter of her crew, were on medical leave. Tuvok could only preform so many mind melds each day. They were necessary to start the healing process, which partially worked, leaving physical damage in the form of cranial fractures and contusions. The EMH devised a treatment to repair the remaining disruptions in the affected crews’ synaptic pathways. Until that was complete, Captain Janeway had been forced to promote Tom to Lt. Commander and give him the responsibilities of Frist Officer as her next in command. Lt. Carey had been made acting Chief Engineer. Seven was a good send, repairing the damage to the computer core so Janeway could change command codes and enhance security protocols.

Although the crew understood the reason for their friends and colleagues pointing phasers at them, it would take a long time before they established the level of trust prior to this event. In the meantime, Voyager was running on limited staff. Many were pulling double shifts in multiple areas. Kathryn was working twenty-hour days, many with Tom at her side as he attempted to take on Chakotay’s duties as well as keep the conn staffed and healing from his wounds. Lt. Commander Paris returned to work the moment he’d left sick bay, refusing to speak about his beating.

Sighing, Janeway dismissed her operation officer. Looking out the window, a freshly replicated coffee in her hand, she wondered how much more they’d all have to lose in the Delta quadrant. It didn’t seem as any relationship couldn’t stand the test of time or the burden of trying to get home.

“Come,” Kathryn stated mournfully to the chime that meant more work.

“A penny for them,” Tom stated, taking in the slump of his captain’s shoulders.

“If only it were that easy,” Janeway turned, trying for a smile that came out tired and weak. “Why, Tom?”

“Honestly,” he decided this was the only person who had the right to know, especially with how closely they were working to put Voyager back together, “I don’t know. Trust issues, lack of communication, loss of hopes and dreams. I can’t really say.”

“Why did you just stand there and take it?” Kathryn asked, her blue eyes scrutinising his face. There were still faint bruises from the broken bones around Tom’s eyes.

“You ever fought a Klingon,” he smirked warily, “or even a half Klingon. I know you have access to my medical records. Heck, I needed the doc on more than one occasion when B’El got arroused and finally finished with me. Sometimes it’s better to just let her get on with it and pick up the pieces afterward. Fighting back, just prolongs the agony.”

“That’s not a relationship,” Janeway stated, a hard tone entering her voice. She understood the subtext. Their intimate life had caused more than one noise complaint. The captain hadn’t realised it was abusive.

“I know,” Tom confessed. “I’m just sorry it took me three years to understand. I’m done discussing the past. Lt. Torres, like the rest of the Maquis wasn’t in her right mind. I refuse to press charges. I just want to get on with the rest of my life.”

“Chalking it up to experience,” Kathryn attempted humour.

“Believe me,” Tom managed a soft chuckle, “I’m never going down that road again. If I give my heart away again, it’ll be to someone of my own species.”

Shaking her head, Janeway disposed of her cup. Replicating two coffees, she marched to her deck, indicating her Acting Frist Officer settle in. “Right, roster’s first. How are we placed for the critical roles?”

Rolling his eyes, Tom knew it was going to be another long day.

* * *

**Critical Care**

“That's why you're looking for him, isn't it?” demanded the image of the woman on the screen. “You want him for yourself.”

Rolling her eyes, Janeway stepped closer to the display. Without a thought, she laid a hand on Tom’s shoulder. He’d kept his rank now Chakotay had been medically cleared, but not the duties.

“I assure you, I have no romantic interest in him whatsoever,” Kathryn almost growled.

“Why?” the woman glanced at Tom before snorting. “Not good enough for you?”

“Look around my bridge,” the Captain used her command tone. “How many women do you see?”

Luckily, not a single female crewmember was station on the bridge. Of the men, they were from four species, with differences in height and colouring. Smirking as Kathryn watched the woman take in the seven staff at their various station, Janeway lent into Paris’s personal space, sliding her arm around Tom’s shoulders.

“I already have several men,” the Captain stated, indicating the area behind her. “I have no need of yours. I simply have a business opportunity for Mr. Gar. One that will expire if we don't find him soon.”

“How much for the blond,” the woman indicated Tom, her eyes predatory.

“Mr. Paris,” Kathryn purred, deliberately looking into Tom’s stunned eyes. He caught her message and played along, acting shy and submissive. “Stunning, isn’t he. It’s the colouring. Quite distinctive. You won’t find merchandise like this in the Delta quadrant. I’m afraid my personal favorited isn’t for sale. Now, where can I find Mr. Gar?”


End file.
